Wax On, Wax Off
by Lamia-Kuei
Summary: Garrus discovers just how much Shepard's discovered about turian bathhouse practices. Thanks to all of the positive feedback, here's the official sequel to 'Clean Only On Cipritine!
1. Chapter 1

Garrus, for the first time in a long time, was nervous about going home. Home to Cipritine.

The wonder of it was the source of his nerves had nothing to do with his father, the situation with his mother's health, or his fraying relationship with his sister.

No, they were entirely caused by one Commander Shepard.

It's one thing, he thought, to have a perfectly logical nervous reaction to her modus operandi on the battlefield. It involved, simply enough, being a door-busting human projectile with a shotgun and trusting him to pick off all comers outside of her kill zone before they became an issue by flanking her. Nervousness, followed by the inevitable wave of focus that came with adrenaline, training, and the imperative for mission success.

It was the unintended consequence of needing to prove himself worth his berth and rations on the Normandy. It made them close. It made them know how the both of them perceived the ground as they took to the field. It forged a friendship.

The unfortunate thing with that, he was discovering, was that being friends with an alien meant that when said alien visits your home town and then as parting words on an omnitool call:

"I might need a little help. With my back."

He had no, absolutely none whatsoever, point of surety as to what she meant. At all.

Oh, he was completely familiar with what it meant coming from another turian. Everybody knew that meant a particular kind of stress relief at a particular kind of venue. Garrus was good with unambiguous intent.

But coming from Commander Shepard?

Was it that meaning, or was he supposed to know it was something else, because humans don't do things like that, in that way?

And besides that, what was he supposed to do with the implication that if it was as he is used to understanding the phrase, she'd especially wanted to do it with him?

What about THAT?

Pull back, pull back, his gut warned him. Focusing too close, too soon.

That was a supreme effort, since residual parts of his mind were poking at the idea and besides feeling flattered (A superior who was competent, deadly, respected, who wanted him? Apart and above everybody else under their command? VICTORY) there was just plain confusion on confusion (How? Do you- Spirits, he was still weirded out by human external ears, let alone the rest of their bodies-)

Just do what you said you would do; show her places in Cipritine beyond the official tour. Show the places that made Cipritine home, the kinds of places only the locals know. Let the rest of it fall where it may. No need to get all squeezed in the gizzard about it.

She probably meant something totally different anyway.

Joining C-Sec was a crash course on how humans (or at least, the ones that made it into C-Sec. Perhaps there was a correlation?) wielded irony and sarcasm not out of conscious intent to lie (though they did do that, of course) but as a normal aspect of everyday discourse. It served to make understanding what they were meaning vs. what they were saying frustrating as all get out.

As far as he was concerned, only humans managed to turn a double affirmative, "Yeah, right," into the total opposite in meaning, which was actually "No, it is not".

And how could he forget the day he and a couple other rookies were made to do mind numbing filing?

"Awesome."

"Great."

"My day has been made."

He was looking at them like they were insane, until he noticed the eyebrow and lip quirking that they were exaggerating at each other to signal that it was all to their distaste.

It went completely against how he was taught to receive orders; obey in silence and it is not for you to voice any opinions, unless specifically asked by a superior. He was already making mandibles clench with his earnest and respectful questions and objections about the standard procedures.

Only humans voiced obedience while distinctly broadcasting the opposite in their opinion at the same time.

It drove every single turian tasked with giving them orders up the wall.

Garrus was bad enough a turian to find it amusing, instead of completely aggravating.

Well, this was delayed payback, then.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

He attended to his family business. He was there as one of many witnesses from various branches of the greater clan for entering the names of a cohort of new infants into the Records after their plates hardened enough to be traditionally presented to the public. He liked Recording Days, actually. Babies were simply cute and they were perfect centers of attention. Innocent and new, with no pressures on them to do anything of their potential.

Which was what made standing witness during the Oserun where another cohort of cousins were promoted to Third Tier and scattered cousins, aunts, and uncles from across the clan rose to their next prospective Tiers also, an exercise in bittersweet endurance. The eager questions from his cousins during the party after about what it was like in the thick of the Battle of the Citadel, the most significant field of action in recent memory, and the looks of respect and awe from their young faces were offset by the speculative gazes of his father's contemporaries.

His service record was now different. Served with humans. But took essential part in, lest anybody forget, the most significant battle in recent memory (of import to all Council species, to say nothing of saving the Council itself) and successfully completing a myriad of field missions on the way towards completing the ultimate objective, under the auspices of a Council Spectre... (human or not, Shepard is a Spectre was due respect on her own merits) And different meant they were all reevaluating and weighing him against the rest of his age cohort, tallying up amongst themselves over drinks on whether or not they'd make any formal written letters of recommendation on his behalf for the next Oserun.

It had been easier, last year. Last year, he just overheard the general opinion that he was doing well, but not quite well enough for any formal recommendation. He was coming along fine, if only he'd just apply himself with actually contributing to the spirit of C-Sec by cooperating instead of asking his everlasting questions, sighed many of the older, concerned family members who went over the evaluation reports sent over from C-Sec. (Some of the distinctly elderly and therefore allowed more leeway relatives cackled 'But isn't that part of his job description as a detective?' 'Suspects, not his superiors!' his father had bristled.)

Argh.

Garrus was also, for the first time, having to seriously watch his replies to certain distinguished elderly ladies of his clan. For they were asking very pointed questions indeed about his social life and he knew then that he was now in serious consideration on their matchmaking lists. Not recommendable enough for an Oserun, but hey, good enough to start flinging daughters of coworkers and friends at, judging from one or another of said esteemed matrons approaching his father with their omnitools flaring to life and ominously long contact lists being scrolled through.

Double argggh.

He wasn't going to honestly say that he'd looked forward to entering this particular stage of his life.

Oh, he knew it was well-meaning, traditional. Good, especially because it was traditional. But in his opinion (not that anybody asked on such matters, no, he was taken seriously only when it came to rifle modding recommendations and tutoring of various cousins over vidcalls on their math homework) he wasn't so socially inept that he couldn't find somebody worth marrying and liking them on his own, thanks. No assistance needed.

Really? Some traitorous part of his mind butted in. When you can't determine what the last words from Shepard actually meant on a simple omnitool call? Come on, you may be a literal hotshot on the battlefield, but anything subtler than an actual punch to the face from a woman have been turned into amusing anecdotes exemplifying awkwardness and humiliation amongst coworkers in C-Sec on how NOT to get laid.

Garrus glared accusingly at his drink. His mood shouldn't have crapped out so soon.

Anyway, he inhaled, made very optimistic thoughts on the tour he was going to take Shepard on tomorrow, and rallied enough cheer and good will to enjoy himself for his cousins' sake at their graduation party.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

He met her in her hotel's lobby. She was sitting in her radiation suit, her helmet by her side. She was alert, of course, watching the people passing by. Her gaze settled on him unwaveringly.

"Garrus! Right on time!" she moved to get up.

"Hi, Shepard."

"Did your family thing go okay?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Good. So, where are we headed?"

Spirits, Vakarian, say more than five words at a time to the woman, can't you?

He didn't know what to think about how she was just... normal as can be at that moment. Looking up at him, readying her helmet, not making any flirtatious signals at all. That, or she was and he was not picking up on her broadcast, and wouldn't that be rich, arrrgh... stop it.

"I figure you've had enough of Monuments and Very Important Buildings."

"Yep."

"Right, then. I, ah, thought I'd show you the Tiferi river."

Shepard nodded, before putting her helmet on.

"Definitely wasn't on the tour. Lead on, big guy."

They took a taxi away from the central administration district and the buildings became friendlier in scale; shops and apartments, with the newer buildings built to honor the traditional style, the markets and retail areas on the ground floors given shade with awnings or set back into arcades with arched openings.

He lead her to the Tiferi.

Cipritine as a settlement began near its banks. Over the centuries, the Tiferi was channeled into fields for farming, the first serious feats of engineering in turian history were concerned with building check dams, overflow catch basins, aqueducts, cistern systems and extensive underground piping to safely disperse the river's annual flooding. They needed the water and necessarily feared it too.

He pointed out these aspects of the engineering to her as they walked. He was hesitant at first, but Shepard was asking interested questions of the history of it all and he settled into his explanations.

Garrus took her to a park he'd played in as a child, where some of the river's flow had been diverted and kept shallow, to meander as a stream. Even now there were children, standing on foot bridges over the little span, observed by their parents, as they dropped sticks and leaves on the water and ran alongside on the banks, laughing and cheering as one leaf or a stick won a race to the next the foot bridge.

They stopped on a bridge just before this diverted stream rejoined the rest of the Tiferi.

"It's beautiful, Garrus," she said, leaning on the railing of the bridge.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I bet there's a nice breeze to go with it. Is there?"

He could faintly see her blinking behind the visor of her helmet.

"Yeah, there is."

"Figures. I don't know how Tali could stand it, stuck behind a helmet the way she is all the time. Can't even feel a breeze."

Garrus didn't have anything to say about that.

"You know, in a city like this, on Earth? There would be all sorts of boats out on the water on a sunny day like this, people out on the water."

"Ah, you know that's not going to happen on this planet. Not that we don't appreciate the Tiferi our own way."

It was true. There were all sorts of people on bridges, watching the water also, or sitting in the park, catching that same breeze.

"You're right. Just thinking on the differences. Plus the fact that people used to get executed by getting thrown in. Must be on everybody's mind, huh?" her tone was amused.

Garrus coughed, suddenly embarrassed. He got a little too enthusiastic with listing off the historical uses of the Tiferi.

Shepard chuckled.

"Where next?"

He took her to what used to be a private garden of an ancient primarch, now a public place for visitors. That primarch was of eccentric tastes and this garden was the best of their legacy in that art. People came for the beauty of aged trees and beds full of old-fashioned blooms, the walks were all pebble mosaics in beautiful patterns, and there were statuary from significant artists of that era. But the showcase was water.

Fountains, all gravity fed (not a one pumped, this was well before turians harnessed electricity) shot plumes of spray high into the air, as tall as two modern building stories, a show to impress. Shepard's walk slowed and she lingered to listen to the sounds of falling water, pausing to take in the views of alles of trees reflected in the broad pools, watching as water was collected in basins, overflowing, branching out into various pools, made to dance in fanning sprays, made to form waterfalls that were miniatures of real waterfalls in the wilderness of ancient Palaven.

"Nobody ever said one word," Shepard sighed, tilting her helmet at Garrus. "about this place. And you said this is hundreds and hundreds of years old? All of this?"

"Yes. It was almost torn down after that primarch passed. It was seen as a folly. Indulgent."

"But the ENGINEERING," Shepard spread her arms wide. "All the work that went into this!"

She made an audible gust of breath in her helmet.

"... Yes," Garrus grinned. "The engineering was impressive."

"And all for beauty. I like it."

They walked on after that. He was sure that he wasn't going to able to top Quentius' Water Garden, not within walking distance, anyway. So he took her to the closest market street because he well knew her penchant for window shopping. Or, rather, shopping in general.

She crowed and pounced on a number of turian ship models. She agonized over one or the other, and then finally gave up, buying them all.

"So. You hungry, or is that a varren in your midsection?" Garrus asked after they'd walked a few more blocks.

Shepard punched Garrus on the arm.

"You know it. Do we need to head back to the hotel?"

Garrus had his omnitool activated.

"There's a place close by that offers some asari styled dishes. Is that okay? Or is salarian stuff more your speed?"

"Have I ever looked like I had a craving for worms and other creepy crawly critters? Asari cuisine. Definitely."

Pretty much only Commander Shepard could make Garrus feel like his appetite was delicate; she was packing away three different plates of food. He'd once idly pondered about how many calories she burned flinging herself around the battlefield and how he hadn't observed her going any faster the longer a battle lasted, though she must be burning off units of weight. Wouldn't applying the same amount of force to reduced mass result in her shoving her shotgun into her target's face sooner? It seemed like it ought to be. There was something off about his understanding of physics when it came to biotics, he concluded.

Shepard hummed happily before putting her hand to her mouth for a moment.

"...Okay. I'm good," she concluded.

"Finished eating?"

"Nope. Burp suppression."

"Thanks."

Shepard laughed. Garrus blinked before realizing that perhaps it didn't make sense to her for him to thank her for not demonstrating one of the more alien aspects of humans (and krogans) by forcing air back up from her stomach. She once got a good number of the crew to participate against Wrex in a burping contest. It was, to put it mildly, one of the most disgusting displays Garrus had ever witnessed, let alone smelled.

Shepard asked for the menu again to peruse the desserts.

"... This looks like it's made out of ice. Is it?" she asked the server hopefully.

When the server confirmed that yes, it was, Shepard crowed and made an order.

"Asari came up with popsicles on their own! It's just what I needed."

"... What's a popiscle?"

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Garrus couldn't help feeling that Shepard's innocent smile at him was another one of those wordless lies told by lying humans who didn't much care that their lying was a bad lie. It got his cop instincts fired up immediately because they only smiled those kinds of smiles when everything was fait accompli and everything was beyond saving.

Shepard perked up when her mysterious asari dessert arrived.

It was... obscene.

Garrus' mandibles fluttered. Made out of ice, on a stick, propped upright on a stand, it was thin, blue, and looked almost like-

Spirits, Shepards picked it up and that shocking pink tongue of hers was out and sliding from base to tip and...

Garrus' own tongue went dry.

Shepard's eyes had dropped closed and she made a happy noise, mumbled something about it being so nice and cold, and slid it back and forth between her lips.

Something must be broken in Garrus' brain. He was incapable of higher motor function. He took no notice of the fact that a few other diners in the restaurant had noticed Shepard's performance and were staring also, mandibles going slack.

Just... watching her twirl that tongue over the tip, licking, sucking, molding her wet, dye-stained lips over the sides, down and back up and down and back up and-

Shepard opened her eyes.

Everybody else abruptly straightened and turned away, a few making rasp coughs.

Garrus couldn't move. She smiled at him again, all pretense of innocence dropped, and kept on molesting- EATING, spirits-

He couldn't help but thrum from the sight of it, from the perilous way she was keeping his gaze while stoking his sudden desire with every dip of her lips and run of her tongue.

Say something, say something- Um, no, I'm good with not saying anything as long as she keeps on doing that-

"...Garrus."

"... Ah?"

"I'm all sticky now. Means I need a bath."

"...Aaaahuh."

Obviously there was a sudden malfunction with his jaw. And both sets of vocal cords.

Shepard dispatched the rest of the popsicle with excruciating slowness.

"Time for you to find the nearest bathhouse, big guy. Don't make me wait on you helping with my back."

She put down the popsicle stick and went up to pay.

…

…

… !

Move. MOVE- some tinny part of his mind started to yell. ALL HANDS ON DECK! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! WAKE. THE. FUCK. UP!

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Garrus, if somebody were to ask about his whereabouts that day, would have to draw a blank starting from when Shepard went to pay and this moment, where he was watching her unclasp and step out of her rad suit. He had no ability to recall how he found this bathhouse, where it was, or how they got there.

Just.

Skin.

She's looking at him, really looking at him once he's out of his clothes and it's making him feel squeezed in the gizzard with how she smiles again before going to drop her clothes bin off at the desk.

She chooses an alcove on the perimeter, lays her towel down on a bench. He moves to do the same and takes a seat next to where she's laid her towel. His mind has cleared just enough on the walk over to fall back on habit; they were going to actually bathe first and then... and then.

He doesn't question why Shepard remained standing as he starts rubbing oil over his forearms. The rote familiarity of bathing serves as a calming center.

He's promptly knocked off of it as Shepard raises one leg and puts it on the bench, oiling her foot and calf. At his current angle and the tilt on her hips he can see everything. Whoa, okay. Human vulva. And it's pink.

It was something whispered and laughed about in C-Sec. How humans went around all the time with their genitalia out, how it was a wonder they'd even managed civilization when they were primed for copulation all the time and so undisciplined that they must spend all their time rutting. Overgrown, tail-less pyjacks.

Garrus knew better. Learned better, actually. Apparently humans compensated by developing confusingly prudish cultural and social standards in regards to... well. Everything. On the Normandy, they bathed alone in isolated shower stalls, nobody looking at anybody else, let alone speaking or sharing pleasure, rushing through streams of water and scrubbing at a frantic pace at their skin before hustling off with towels around their midsections. The men did at least and Garrus came to understand that the act was the same for the women. They called it the Two Minute Shower.

Travesty.

Especially compared to what Garrus was witnessing at that moment, Shepard smoothing oil over a knee and along her thigh, tantalizingly moving up, close-

She stepped down and put her other leg up, blocking his view.

He caught her smile after he'd thrummed again and it got him hotter, how she knew just how to tease. He had no idea that she had this side to her.

They watched each other, Shepard finishing up her other leg, him moving on to his cowl and keel.

Shepard stepped over the bench and took a seat, straddling it.

"Budge over. I want to help you first."

Garrus moved so that he was straddling the bench also, moving closer to her. Not seeing her, but feeling her hands on him, was good in an entirely different way. His head drooped and he closed his eyes. He didn't get to relax for long. Shepard was actually knocking on his carapace with a knuckle.

"... What are you doing?"

"Can you feel that?"

"Yes, Shepard. And that? That's not really helping the mood, here."

"Oh, sorry," she smoothed her palms down and got her many fingers on his waist and started kneading. "... Is this... better?"

Garrus had no words, just a desperate thrumming whimper.

She traced out a track of fire over his hips, oiling up his abdominal plates, back across his sides and Garrus started panting as both hands came down, framing his groin plates.

"Still inside, I see," Shepard traced one finger lightly over his seam. Too lightly. He squirmed, hitching his hips up.

"...Please. Oh, please..."

"I think you're forgetting. You need. To help. With my back."

Garrus forced his eyes open. Yes. Yes, he needed to do that, things can't go on without doing it properly.

Plus, Shepard was much too smug and gleeful. He was going to have to fix that.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

They moved so that Shepard was sitting in front of him, between his legs. Spirits, her skin was phenomenal to feel, uninterrupted smoothness under his hands. She sighed as he petted her, giving him enough time to exhale and rally his mind.

First, he silently gave thanks to the undoubtedly generous stranger earlier on her visit here who was obviously inspired by the spirits of teamwork and hospitality, because what she was doing to him was driving him out of his mind and she had to have gotten lessons from somebody.

Second, he didn't know precisely how he was going to go about making her feel as needy as he was feeling now, but hey, hands on experimentation and learning by doing? He was totally okay with that. Time to see of Shepard was too.

He leaned forward, nuzzling the back of her neck for a moment, inhaling her personal scent, so much richer coming from her hair, before licking at the back of her neck. She liked that, judging from the soft sound she made, so he continued.

He paused before making a soft pass on the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue, testing.

"Do that some more," she whispered, still all command and he purred, glad to obey.

He got more oil on his hands before putting them on her again, massaging her on her waist and navel, not hearing any more encouragement, and then finally moving on to the other unoiled parts of her. She made a rolling undulation when he cupped her breasts, which brought her buttocks up and against his groin plates.

Her nipples, with their contrasting color of skin, where logical targets and he set about touching them, light passes with his palms before catching hold with his thumbs and forefingers in a light rolling motion. Shepard made another series of delicious breathy sounds, wriggling against him some more. Garrus angled his hips, not urging her on or stopping her either and another press of her ass on him was enough, he was out and first feel of it, of his cock brushing against her skin had him thrumming again.

Shepard turned in his arms then, surging forward and she went for his neck, licking and sucking- Oh, that- that feels-

She gradually gets to the prongs of one mandible, sliding her lips over them, and he can't see, his eyes have shut again.

She lets go, he can feel her hands framing his face and he hazards opening his eyes, questioning. She's looking at him, which makes him blink.

It's immediately striking how alien she is; her eyebrows, the fine hairs that are her eyelashes, the whites of her eyes. Those sinful lips.

Her tongue makes a brief appearance, a quick slide between her lips and she's leaning forward, pressing them to his mouth plates.

Um.

He opens his mouth to ask the necessary question as to what she's even doing, and she sticks her tongue. In his mouth.

It takes everything for him to merely tighten his grip on her arms and not flinch away.

And then, when he copies that press and slide against her tongue with his own, she's got him. She's caught him up in the world of her lips and tongue and he can do nothing but stay, deliriously trapped.

He'd stay, except that he could feel her rubbing on him and the beginnings of that hot clutch as she's pressing his tip into her and he jerks back.

Her eyes go wide.

"Garrus?"

Garrus inhales.

"My legs. Have to finish up-"

Garrus is going to save up the image of Shepard wild eyed with arousal because of him and pouting from denial to savor forEVER and ever. VICTORY.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Shepard moves and Garrus moves to match her intent, swinging his leg over the bench so that he's no longer straddling it and she's kneeling before him. She picks up the oil and wordlessly starts with a foot and rubbing in with care. She doesn't even rush; it's strange but she GETS the rules and that he needs to follow those rules.

You need to go as fast as the oiling; which was not very fast at all. Everybody knew that. If you wanted quick and dirty, you took it to a sparring room and knocked each other around a few rounds. Bathhouses were for taking time.

He leaned back against the wall and just breathed, so that his own arousal was a manageable level. She got to a spur and was distracted by it, feeling the juncture where it parted from his calf. Garrus snickered fondly. Her boundless curiosity was part and parcel of her appeal.

She looked up when he snickered.

"Okay, wise guy," Shepard murmured.

She moved on, smoothing oil upwards on his thigh. His cock twitched, but otherwise he remained still. She moved back down, picking up his other foot and setting to work.

It felt relaxing good, and he closed his eyes again.

He was going to learn to quit getting surprised that she'd take advantage of that, because when she was done with his other thigh, she pushed his legs further apart before swirling her tongue around the tip, precisely the way she did on that popsicle.

That dip, that slide, that suck-

YeeeeaaahgoodgoodGOOD-

And then she made the executive decision to destroy all higher brain functions by swallowing.

Garrus cried out, pinned down by her as she took her fill of him.

People were definitely looking, now. Garrus gloated to himself for a moment, because he got sucked off and they could all go stew in their envy, that's what-

Shepard was wiping the corner of her mouth and she wasn't expecting Garrus to pounce.

He caught her in his arms, laying her out on her towel, spreading her legs, opening up that pink core before plunging in ravenously with his tongue.

He tasted sweat and saturate, soft quivering from every lick and flick and when he got a thumb rubbing alongside her clit she came off the bench from that, toes scrabbling for purchase. He looks up and she's fondling herself, so he reaches out with his free hand, taking hold of a breast and rolling the pads of his fingers over a nipple and it makes her cry, makes her shake.

He feels her, that last triumphant clench and groan and he moves up, looking down on her as she lays there, flushed and supine and gloriously beautiful.

Shepard reaches out, tracing a finger over his hardness, before taking hold and angling her hips to guide him. It's good, so good when he slides in and she caresses his neck.

He makes an experimental thrust and bursts out with a laugh.

"Problem?" Shepard's eyebrows quirk.

"Um," he thrusts again and makes another barely suppressed snicker. "You jiggle. When I do that."

Shepard glances down at her breasts.

"So I do. Think you can work around that, big guy?"

She thrusts up to meet his downstroke and he moans from it.

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Shutting up now."

Her first orgasm took the edge off nicely for her; she was bucking back, biting her lip, goading him to go faster, deeper, do it like that, give it to her like that, that's an order- yesyesyesYESFUCKYES-

She goes first, curling, clenching, and that's more than enough to have him grip her hard one last time, riding that slickshock high after her.

…

She's doing that thing with her lips and her tongue on his face again.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"You were just doing it. What's that?"

Shepard blinks before making a soft smile. It looks gorgeous on her.

"It's a kiss. It's the way humans kiss."

Garrus thinks for a moment. It's nice.

"Okay. I just needed to know what it is."

He lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her back.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

They make it back to her hotel and lock themselves into her room. She's bound and determined to travel all the planes of his body and he's right there with her. They fall asleep curled around each other in her bed.

Garrus wakes up to his omnitool beeping that particular tone that tells him that it's Solana.

He rather stupidly answers without hesitation.

"Garrus! Garrus is this some stupid plan of yours to kill father off with a stroke!?"

He struggles into a sitting position.

"Um. I have no idea what you are saying. What did I do this time?"

"Cousin Crixis says that Aunt Scipiana's friend Lorren's daughter Cymbela saw YOU rutting a HUMAN in a bathhouse!"

Oh.

He paused too long and Solana wasn't a C-Sec officer's kid that hadn't learned anything.

"AHA! It's true!" his omnitool's speakers buzzed from her crowing. "GUILTY! Guilty as charged!"

"Aaarrrgh!"

Solana just laughed.

"Bad move, Garrus. I'm almost impressed! I mean, after all, nobody expected that you'd be so... cosmopolitan so soon after getting on the Citadel-"

Garrus made rasping scrape noise from his chest.

"But you're just going to have to try harder to knock father off. Fucking a human isn't shocking enough! If you don't want him to come after you for embarrassing the family right after an OSERUN, Garrus, I suggest you book shuttle immediately. IMMEDIATELY, Garrus! I'll ship your luggage today. Okay, farewell and all that, stupid brother!"

Solana cut the connection.

Garrus hazards a look at Shepard.

Her face is carefully blank and he's sure that's because his own face is carefully blank. Awkward.

"I. Uh. I'm not actually trying to kill my father. I love him and mother very much," he said dutifully.

Shepard's eyebrows rose.

"I would never assume you were, Garrus. Is this okay? Are we okay? It sounds like you're in serious trouble."

She reaches out for him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Eeeaaah. I think I'll stay away from this planet for about two. Three. Years. That should work."

"It's that bad, huh?"

Garrus shrugged.

"There's no good way to look at it. After all," he looks at her significantly. "you seduced me. In public. I was innocent, once."

"Innocent, huh?" Shepard grins.

"Oh, yes. There was a time when I had no idea about the astounding instruments of debauchery that you humans just brazenly go around flaunting in public-"

"Instruments of debauchery-" Shepard barks out a laugh as Garrus pushes her backwards into the bed.

"You are very lucky that I don't feel like attempting to get popsicles banned from polite establishments," Garrus nuzzles her neck. "I've been hopelessly corrupted, you see. It's all the human Spectre's fault, the shame of it all."

Shepard's gasping laughter turns into plain gasping in a moment and Garrus purrs.

finis


End file.
